


Nobody puts Kieran in the corner

by reddeadmort



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Eye Trauma, F/M, Gen, Gun Violence, Not Canon Compliant, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-15 04:55:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18491788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reddeadmort/pseuds/reddeadmort
Summary: Another Tumblr request, this time for a 'John Wick' style female reader that loves Kieran's sweet nature and will do anything to protect him.Here, Kieran's gone missing from Shady Belle and the reader goes off to find him.Canon re-write as Kieran didn't deserve to die; might do a prequel/a few more chapters where the reader saves some other gang members; them that need savin' anyway.Multiple references to/quotes from both John Wick and Deadpool.





	Nobody puts Kieran in the corner

“Y/N, have you seen Kieran anywhere?”

“No Mary-Beth, I ain’t. Something wrong?” You frowned; Mary-Beth look worried, and it wasn’t like her to fret unnecessarily.

“I’m sure it’s fine. It’s just….well…… this morning he asked me to meet him by the lake, to read to him. Except I can’t find him, and he’s never been late before.” You smiled at the thought of Mary-Beth reading to Kieran; you and her were the only ones that really gave him the time of day. He was sweet, always nice to you, and you loved how well he cared for the horses.  

“I’m sure one of the others sent him to get some supplies or something. When was the last time you saw him?”

“I’m sure it was…well, actually…. I don’t think I’ve seen him since he asked me. He said Hosea had asked him to check for post in Rhodes, and I haven’t seen him around since then.”

“Wait here, Mary-Beth. I’ll go ask Arthur.” You walked briskly over to Arthur, glancing over to the horses – it didn’t look like Kieran’s was there. You were growing increasingly concerned; you hadn’t seen Kieran since this morning either, and there had been reports of O’Driscolls in Lemoyne - they were spreading like a disease.

“Arthur, one of you boys sent Kieran out for something?”

“Hmm.. don’t think so Y/N. Everythin’ alright?”

“Not sure Arthur, not sure. I’m gonna go have a look for him. You fancy riding with me?”

“’Fraid not Y/N” Arthur sighed. “Dutch says I’ve got to go to some party in Saint-Denis, gotta dress up all fancy. I don’t know if I’m going to enjoy this.”

You laughed, the idea of this lot dressed up in evening wear seemed so ridiculous. “Treat it like a hunting expedition Arthur, then you’ll feel more comfortable. Anyway, I’m going to go have a look for Kieran now.”

“Sure thing, be careful Y/N.”

You started to walk away before turning back to Arthur.

“Here, Arthur, how come you never tell me to be safe? You always say ‘be careful’ to me, but ‘be safe’ to the other girls. You say ‘be careful’ to Sadie too.”

Arthur chuckled. “’Cause, Y/N, with you and Sadie it ain’t your safety I worry about. It’s the safety of anyone that looks at you funny.”

“That ain’t true Arthur… you make me sound psychotic.” You rolled your eyes, Arthur sure did exaggerate sometimes.

“Y/N, I once saw you kill three men in a bar... with a pencil. With a goddamn pencil. My goddamn pencil actually.”

“Oh yeh. Forgot ‘bout that.” You grinned at Arthur then walked off towards your horse. Arthur watched you leave, shaking his head.

\-----

The postmaster in Rhodes was more than useless; his inability to see what was going on was useful when it was your group causing trouble, but when you wanted information it was not helpful. You were walking up towards the saloon, contemplating your next move, when you spotted that old veteran you and Arthur had given a few dollars to. A few more dollars later and you had the information that you were looking for, though it wasn’t what you wanted to hear.

Apparently a group of rough looking men with Irish accents had accosted a weedy looking man that you assumed to be Kieran as he exited the post office. They’d headed north out of town; luckily there was enough of them they should be easy to track. As you mounted your horse, you contemplated going back to camp, rounding up a few of the others, but that wasn’t really an option. If these were O’Driscolls, and if they had Kieran, you didn’t have time to do anything other than chase them, hard. They were already a good half day ahead of you.

\-----

You’d only been riding for an hour or so when you saw the smoke. You almost rode straight past, assuming the camp would be Lemoyne raiders – surely the O’Driscolls wouldn’t have set up so close to Rhodes and Shady Belle. There was far too much noise though; the raiders were like rats, covering this area, but they were never found in groups of more than 8 or 10.

You turned into the trees and dismounted. You left your horse a little way behind you, still in sight, and crept towards the edge of the small hill so you could look down into the little hollow the camp was positioned in, the evening darkness providing you with some cover. You removed your rifle from your shoulder and settled down onto your front on the ground.

You scanned the camp through your rifle scope. Definitely O’Driscolls, and there was a lot of them – about 30. This was going to be difficult, even for you. The camp was pretty spread out, so it shouldn’t be particularly tricky to take a fair few of them out silently with your knife or bow. You decided to have a good look of the camp, then go back to your horse to arm up. You had your rifle, of course, and your two revolvers on your belt, but you wanted to make sure this lot got the best of you; and, in your rush to check out the camp, you’d stupidly left your ammo satchel attached to your saddle.

The O’Driscolls looked like they were having a celebration of sorts; for a moment, you wondered if your information was wrong. Then your scope settled on the figure of Kieran, swinging by the ankles from a tree branch, bound hands dragging on the floor. _Thank fuck, he was still alive._

You’d barely finished that thought when the man holding the red-hot iron rod came into view. Without pause, or warning, the bastard held the burning metal to one of Kieran’s eyes. His scream hadn’t reached your ears before your finger squeezed the trigger, blowing out the brains of the bastard that dared hurt your boy. _Fuck subtle._

The next shot got a particularly ugly fucker between the eyes. You smiled to yourself as the third tore through the head of one man and into the chest of another behind him. _4 for 3, not bad._ You got off another 2 shots, ending two more pathetic O’Driscoll lives, before the idiots even realised where you were. Bullets thudded into the trees 5 metres or so to your side while you lined up your 6th rifle shot. You settled on a particularly stupid man that was attempting to hide behind a pile of crates. Unfortunately – for him anyway – he was cowering on the wrong side. You quickly removed his panic along with most of his face.

You pulled your head away from the scope, reaching to your side for another clip to reload. Your hand got halfway before you remembered where your ammo satchel was. _Shit._

You looked up just in time to see the lit dynamite hurtling through the air towards you. Acting on pure instinct, you dropped your rifle and rolled to your side. You were about to cover your face with your arms when you witnessed the dynamite collide with an overhanging branch and bounce back towards the camp. You raised an eyebrow as you saw the little group of unfortunate men look at the still sizzling dynamite at their feet, then look at each other, then look at nothing as they were blown to smithereens. _Well that was a freebie._

You looked behind you only to see your horse fleeing through the trees. Poor bugger never did like loud noises; he was a pretty crap horse for an outlaw. Sighing, you got to your feet, took shelter behind a tree and checked the chambers of your revolvers. 12 bullets, 20 odd men left. _Maximum effort._

As you ran through the trees to the left of the camp, the O’Driscolls continued to fire at the spot you had vacated. _Never underestimate the stupidity of idiots._

Reaching the edge of the camp, you paused, watching them unload into the trees up the hill. _This was going to be too easy._

“Okay boys, I only have twelve bullets, so y’all goin’ to have to share!” you called out. As the men span round, you took out the 2 most alert fuckers – you might be slightly psychotic, but you weren’t stupid. Dodging behind a wagon, you let them unload a volley of shots at you before you crouched down and took out three with a well-placed shot from under the wagon into a small oil tank.

_9 shots, 15 left._

Taking advantage of the confusion the explosion caused, you sprinted across to a pile of crates, loosing 4 shots as you ran. All 4 caught men in the chests; you preferred shots to the head, but there was a limit to what even you could do while running.

_5 shots, 11 left._

Ducking out from cover, you fired off a round just as one of theirs whistled past your cheek. You felt the heat sear your face, the blood start running down. To your disappointment, your shot went wide, sailing past your intended target. Someone, somewhere, was obviously enjoying the show though, as another man popped out of cover just in time to take your rogue bullet between the eyes.

_4 shots, 10 left._

You chucked your empty revolver to one side, switching the remaining gun to your right hand and drawing your knife with your left. _Time to get personal._

You tugged your hat off your head and threw it up into the air as you dived towards some nearby tents. You watched as your hat – or what was left of it – hit the ground. _Shame. Was a good hat._

You crept up behind an unsuspecting man, driving your knife into his back as you shot another distracted bastard. Using your knife, you dragged the man with you, utilising him as a rudimentary shield.

_3 shots, 8 left._

Diving behind another wagon, you swore as you landed hard on a box, the contents spilling out. As you looked down however, you grinned at the red sticks next to you. Picking up two, you stood up and overarm launched them both into the air. Stepping out from cover, you waited for the dynamite to reach the head height of the surviving group before igniting them with two shots. You shut your eyes and turned your head as the spatter covered you. _Lovely._

_1 shot, 1 left._

The last man emerged from the smoke and didn’t even have a chance to raise his repeater before your final bullet ploughed into him, smashing him to the ground. You stalked towards him as he lay moaning and groaning on the floor. Standing over him, you took in the pathetic sight; one hand was clutching at his breastbone, the other reaching up to you in a begging gesture.

“If that hit you in the chest, I’m sorry.” You smiled at him and a look of confusion flashed through the pain on his face. “I was aimin’ for your crotch.”

“What the hell did we do to you, you crazy bitch.” The man gurgled as he forced the words out, blood dribbling from the side of his mouth.

You stayed silent, stepping towards the fire and slowly drawing another pointed iron rod from it. You walked back towards the prone man, chucking the glowing rod in the air, catching it again perfectly by the cooler end.

“It’s not what you did that angers me so…. It’s who you did it to.”

Starting to choke on his own blood, the dying bastard still managed to cough out a reply.

“Who? That fucking nobody?”

You squatted down next to him, resting your forearms on your thighs, before cocking your head to one side and staring at the unfortunate O’Driscoll.

“That fucking nobody is mine.”

In one swift movement, you buried the poker into the ground; it just so happened to pass through the man’s eye and skull before it hit the earth.

Standing up, you surveyed the destruction around you. _Arthur was probably right; safety wasn’t really a concern of yours._ A whimper from behind you snapped you back to reality, reminding you why you were here.

You ran to Kieran, swiftly cutting the rope holding him up, trying your best to support him and break his tumble to the ground. You made quick work of the ropes around his feet and wrists and helped him sit up. You got a good look at his face for the first time since the start of the fight. His eye was bad… no, his eye was gone. You could feel the rage rising in you again, but tried to dismiss it – there was no one left to take it out on.

“It’s alright Kieran, I’m here. You’re safe now.”

He collapsed into your chest, sobbing, unable to speak. You gently rubbed his back, letting all his fear, panic and pain leak out. After a little while, you pulled away slightly, tearing a piece of material off your shirt and tying it the best you could around his wounded eye socket.

“Come on sweetheart, let’s get you home.”

\-----

It was early morning by the time you and Kieran arrived back at camp; you’d stopped a couple of times to let him rest and be sick. Arthur, Hosea, Dutch and a couple of the others were drinking and laughing at one of the tables, all dressed up in their finery. As you dismounted, they looked over, their chuckling ceasing immediately as they saw you. For a moment, you wondered why they had such horrified looks on their faces; sure, Kieran was injured, but he’d live. You glanced down at yourself only to remember what you were covered in, and the wound to your face. Your hand went to the graze; you’d completely forgotten about it, luckily it appeared to have clotted on its own.

Arthur and Hosea ran over and helped a still shocked Kieran off your horse. He’d been deathly quiet the entire ride back; he was going to take a little while to get over what he suffered, but you'd be more than happy to spend time comforting him. Hosea led him away towards the house, calling for Miss Grimshaw. Arthur stayed with you, hands resting on his belt, looking you up and down.

“Y/N… you were a bit less…. _crimson…._ when you left.”

“Hey, bits of O’Driscoll are the lastest fashion accessory I’ll have you know” you grinned up at him, feeling the dried blood on your face crack as you did so.

Arthur chuckled before gesturing for you to follow him back to Dutch and the others.

“Come on you, you better bring us up to speed. How many pencils did ya use this time?”

“None I’m ‘fraid, sorry to disappoint. Got a good couple of stories about dynamite though.”


End file.
